


Crazy Cat Lady

by TheSleeplessWriter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cats, Established Johnlock, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pets, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleeplessWriter/pseuds/TheSleeplessWriter
Summary: Sherlock can never do anything simply. If he is going to like something, he will obsess over it to no end.Alternatively, Sherlock becomes a crazy cat lady.





	Crazy Cat Lady

Sherlock, exhausted and irritated from a boring case, unlocked the door to 221B. He sighed and pushed away the wild raven curls that hung in front of his eyes. Sitting atop the stairs was a tiny black kitten, eyeing him curiously. Sherlock leaned over and picked it up, holding the small animal at arm's length. 

"Mrs Hudson! I know Angelo said he had to save money on meat, but I didn't know he meant this." Sherlock yelled, experimentally stroking the kitten's soft chin. 

"Oh Sherlock, John's watching this kitten for a bit. His coworker —Sarah, I believe— is moving and can't keep her. I think her name's Minerva." Mrs Hudson explained, walking into the hallway. She was dressed in a pale blue dressing robe and her hair was damp. 

"She's a cuddly little thing." Mrs Hudson smiled and scratched at the top of Minerva's head. The little kitten leaned into the touch and purred. 

"Hmm." Is all Sherlock said in response, moving Minerva close to his chest and walking upstairs. 

He dropped the kitten onto John's chair and opened up his laptop. He was planning to write a new post on his blog, The Science of Deduction. Perhaps on the different clues a boot print could leave, such as weight, height, and even wealth. Before he could even enter the complex password, Minerva leaped to his side and gently walked across the keyboard before settling down against the rising warmth. 

"Oi!" Sherlock said, picking up the cat and placing her on the floor. Within seconds, she returned to the laptop, this time glaring with big green eyes of defiance. 

He couldn't stay irritated for long, as she was, unfortunately, a tiny fluff ball of adorable. 

Sherlock shoved her off and stood, closing the laptop and picking her up. Maybe he could put her in John's room. 

The door downstairs opened, and John walked up the stairs. He dropped a bag of frozen ears to the floor, which he picked up from Bart's on his way home. 

"Ah, so you've met Min. She's Sa-"

"I know." Sherlock interrupted brusquely, allowing Minerva to climb up his blazer and atop his shoulders. He winced at her needle like claws digging into his skin. 

John reached up and grabbed the kitten, placing her on the floor. He quickly looked around the room, finally deciding on Sherlock's prized possession, his laptop. It's not like they could use a Bible. 

"Put your hand here." John instructed. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and obeyed. "Repeat after me. I, Sherlock Holmes," 

"I, Sherlock Holmes." 

"Do solemnly swear to not conduct any sort of experiment on this cat." 

"Of course I wouldn't! I'm not an inhumane bastard." Sherlock seemed genuinely offended that John thought he would try something like that. 

"Not even behavioral ones." John thought Sherlock seemed a bit too in compliance with the rule. 

"Oh, don't be unreasonable!" Sherlock complained, crossing his arms. Admittedly, he did have a few minor experiments planned, but it seems they are all demolished now. 

"No. With our luck, she'll end up terrified of toast, or something worse. Let her be a normal cat." John put the laptop on the coffee table, looking down in surprise to see Minerva circling his legs and meowing squeakily. 

"I fed her before I left, but I think she's hungry again. Go set up a bowl for her." John said before walking away, planning on a quick shower. The slightly lingering scent of hospital and bleach stuck to him like glue. 

"You better not feed her those tongues you got last week! Dry cat food will do." John added in a bellowing tone, already halfway to his room. 

Sherlock slowly put the tongues back in the fridge and rummaged around the cabinets for the boring, predictable kibble bits. 

\--------

John and Sherlock were snuggled up on the couch, watching crap game shows. Sherlock kept trying to assume the winner, which became annoying after some time. 

"He's going to win." The detective announced with assurance, pointing at the scrawny blonde man on the screen. A name tag was pinned to his loose button up shirt, reading Steve. 

"No, it's a game of chance. Besides, the other bloke's already way ahead." John argued, watching as said man collects another five hundred pounds. 

"Psh. It's never really a game of chance. The network is orchestrating it, and will set it up like a story. He's losing by a thousand pounds, so of course everyone will feel sorry for him. He'll pull ahead in the last five minutes and surprise everyone. Networks love underdog stories." Sherlock spoke with the same smug vanity he used on cases, lording himself around with a cleverer-than-thou air. 

"You bastard." It was less of an accusation and more of an already known statement. "Sh, look." John nudged at Sherlock's arm. 

Minerva was curiously looking at the two from the other end of the couch with wide eyes. She slowly made her way over to them, he little paws softly padding as she climbed on top of John. The kitten moved around a bit in John's lap before walking over to Sherlock and curling up in his lap. 

"She likes me best." Sherlock said proudly, petting her head and smiling when she began to purr. 

"And I thought you were more of a dog person." John said, trying to pet Minerva. She backed away from his touch and settled more into Sherlock's. Dammit. 

"I can't help that she likes me." Sherlock said in faux confusion, lifting up his hands in an innocent gesture. A smirk was still on his lips. 

It actually made sense that Sherlock liked cats. He already was so much like one. Stealthy and clever with an arrogant personality, as well as very needy and a lover of attention. He even looked like a cat, with those sharp features and piercing eyes. 

"I was right!" Sherlock exclaimed, gesturing to the screen where pitiful looking Steve was shouting with joy, confetti raining around him. 

\--------

John woke to the unpleasant noise of things dropping and clattering. It was late, almost ten o'clock. At least it was a Saturday. Sherlock was no longer residing on his side of the bed, which gave John a sneaking suspicion of who the culprit may be. 

John made his way to the kitchen, desperately hoping it wasn't a certain curly headed detective trying to cure his boredom again. Too many times has he had to clean up the various types of messes the clever detective concocted. 

He heard another crash and ran quicker. On the top of the kitchen table stood a large orange tabby cat, locking eyes with John for a few moments before swiping her paw to drop a mug beside her. It made a cracking noise, yet did not shatter. The floor was im disarray, different random objects scattered next to the table. 

"Sherlock!" John shouted tiredly, picking up the mess and putting the cat on the floor. She meowed indignantly and leapt back up to the table. John sighed, looking around for Minerva, who was nowhere to be found. 

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, entering the room with a certain fluffy black kitten at his heels. He held a box of cat toys. 

"Who is this?" John gestured to the tabby, who was striding around the table with her tail straight up in the air. 

"Oh. That's Amber." Sherlock said nonchalantly, walking over and scratching Amber's head. She closed her pale green eyes and rubbed her body towards him in response. 

"Ok. Why is Amber here?" John tried again, frowning at the way the other cat loved Sherlock. Why was it that animals never liked him?

"Minerva was scratching at your chair, so I went out to buy her a scratching post." Sherlock spoke in a responsible manner, which was honestly the last thing he could be called. 

"You don't even remember to buy food." John interrupted, an incredulous smile on his face. 

"Anyway, I came across Amber in the streets and thought she could use a home." Sherlock stopped petting Amber and switched to picking up Minerva, holding her close to his chest. 

John peered at Sherlock for a moment. "You're lying." He declared. It has taken him months to learn to see through Sherlock's clever lies. "Where'd you get her?"

Sherlock paused and than decided to come clean. "Gumtree." He admitted, naming the popular website. 

"Two is enough. No more cats, or Mrs Hudson'll drive us out." John advised. Sherlock nodded, albeit, a bit dejected. 

Amber walked over to John, and he decided to try and pet her. At first, the orange cat seemed content with the gentle caresses, but quickly grew tired of it. She whipped her head back and bit hard at the doctor's hand. 

"Bugger!" 

\--------

Tired from trivial patients and long hours, John made his way home. The second he stepped into the flat, he knew something was wrong. The air was distinctly different, almost heavier. John rubbed at his eyes and mentally prepared himself for whatever was in store. 

To say he was surprised when he reached the top of the stairs would be a hell of an understatement. There were cats everywhere. Everywhere. On the floor, on the tables, on the chairs. All the different colors and coat lengths melted into one big cat rainbow. There was even a bloody hairless cat sitting in his chair. 

He took in a big, deep breath to shout for Sherlock's name, but was interrupted before he got the chance. 

"Before you collapse your lungs with yelling, I'm here." Sherlock stood with a multitude of cats circling his legs. He was like a cat god. 

John wiped his hands on his jeans, trying to get rid of the persistent itch to give Sherlock a good cuff round the ear. No one could say he didn't deserve it. 

"Obviously my words went in one ear and out the other. We can't keep even three quarters of this many cats." John said, stepping over the many cats to get to his chair. On his way, two long haired cats clawed at his leg, upset at the invasion of their territory. John sighed and pried them off. Cats really did hate him. 

He moved the quiet hairless cat to the couch's arm where it silently complied and fell asleep. 

"But they all love me!" Sherlock said, even though he himself knew this was a bit extreme. For once, he didn't think ahead, and only thought of the fun of finding and acquiring as many cats as he could through Gumtree. 

"We'll have to give them all away to animal shelters. Bloody hell, today'll be busy." John looked through his phone for some local shelters. First they'd need to get a ridiculous amount of cat carriers. 

"Jaawn." Sherlock whined, seating himself on the floor and petting as many of the cats as he could. 

"We can keep two." John said, knowing it would be Minerva and Amber. 

The hairless cat beside him woke and climbed directly into his lap, rubbing against his jeans. John ventured a small caress to the odd warm skin, and was rewarded with copious purring and comfort shut lids. 

"Ok, we can keep three."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Just a fluffy little fic today to get over some stress. I love cats and currently have two. Feel free to leave kudos, comments, and constructive criticism. :)
> 
> *For all my fellow non-Brits, Gumtree is a website similar to Craigslist.


End file.
